


Solace in the Night

by ichigoangel



Series: Solace in the Night [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, M/M, ill add to tags as we go i dont really know yet, in the form of character death i may as well admit it now, smut (later on but i promise it!)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 05:39:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1293385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ichigoangel/pseuds/ichigoangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>{M-rating will come in later, as is typical for me}<br/>Eren, age seventeen. He wishes to be a musician and will stop at nothing to get there.<br/>Levi, age nineteen. An aspiring artist desperate to finally move out of his mom's house.<br/>They're both sick of a world filled with negativity and they both find nighttime to be the most comfortable setting to live life.<br/>A cliche concept, a cliche story, a cliche teenage romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solace in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> _Hello hello, my children! It's been awhile now, hasn't it? I've missed writing fics, trust me, I have!_
> 
>  
> 
> _This is an idea I got randomly and a few things to note about it:_  
>  1) Short chapters, probably around 3-5k each (read as: i believe that now but watch, i'll end up rambling)  
> 2) This is split into two parts: This part, in which these two dorks fall in love, and a second part in which they move to the city together a few years after meeting.  
> 3) Eren gets his titan hair the whole time because I like it ok  
> 4) Same with the fact that Levi once again has piercings [laughs]  
> 5) Going to try and keep it in character, but it's been awhile and just please forgive inaccuracies in characterization-  
> 6) It'll be first person present-tense all the way through, at least for the first part, and every chapter (unlike hms) will have parts from both POV  
> 7) Please enjoy this cliche love story <3
> 
>  
> 
> _Well, that's about all I have to say right now. Enjoy, kiddies!_

_Eren’s POV_

The pleasantly warm summer air still caresses my entire body despite the fact that it’s a little after eleven-thirty at night. Above me hangs the endless expanse of glittering stars that still manages to captivate me every single time I gaze upwards. Because the town I live in is so tiny, so empty and so dreadfully boring, it takes little effort to see the wonders of the night sky even in the center of town. As I look up, I sigh, because even though the night sky still possesses my adoration, it can never be the same as it once was to me. 

Returning my gaze to surroundings closer than the sky itself, I take in the familiar sight of a peacefully sleeping town. The only building lights within eye range that are still on belong to the gas station, the twenty-four hour grocery store, and the small bowling alley that is one of the very few sources of entertainment in town. Other than that, the only other manmade objects lighting my path are street lamps and the lights of the occasional car passing by. I’m one of the few still out and about. Another loner is walking slowly along the sidewalk on the opposite side of the road and a few cars linger in various parking lots. Even though some of us are still up, the town is still veiled with a cloak of comfortable silence, practically personifying sleep itself. There is no horrid buzzing of countless bugs, which undoubtedly increases the peacefulness of a town at night. Not even the bugs can disrupt the sacred silence floating through the summer air. 

As I continue my trek to the Kwik Trip set a couple blocks away from where I’m currently walking, I adjust the white beanie I’m wearing. I try to keep it as well-positioned as I can, because I have a head of damn-near-shoulder length hair crammed into the back of it. The only part of my hair not veiled by one of my ever-present beanies is my bangs that splay themselves haphazardly across my face and a little bit of near shoulder length hair framing both sides of my face. Although I commonly sweep my hair up into the confines of my hat, sometimes I simply don’t bother and just wear it right on top of it. That’s rare, though. And although I prefer hair hidden under a hat, I can’t bring myself to get it cut. I like it longer, and that’s that. 

A few moments later I find myself opening the door to the gas station that I’ve come to countless times in the past several years. Uncle Hannes waves at me with a cheery smile lighting his face as I stride through the door. He’s a drunk, but a friendly one, and he’s worked at Kwik Trip for as long as I can remember. I shuffle towards the soda freezers with a hurried pace, eager to make my way closer to the edge of town and farther away from the few people still around. I pay Hannes for my bottle of Dr. Pepper and talk to him for one, two minutes before returning to the warm, slightly humid air awaiting me outside. 

My hike to the outskirts of town is quick but not rushed. My phone vibrates a few times in the pocket of my shorts four or five times throughout my walk, but I don’t bother to look. Nighttime is time for me and me alone. The texts were probably from a concerned sister and father, neither of whom understood my obsession with wandering around freely at night. The only one that I’d met thus far who’d shared that fascination with me was my own mother, the one who’d taken me out for late night adventures and stargazing in the first place.

Despite having lived in the same town for all my life, it’s only very recently that I’ve discovered a tiny meadow-like area right outside of town hidden by a wall of trees and tall bushes. It’s not in the woods but it’s not in the open expanse of land, either. I stumbled upon it by chance, but now it’s my favorite place. I’m sure it’s a beautiful place by day, but I’ve never seen it in daylight. No, I’ve only seen the wildflowers and soft rippling waves of grass by the moon’s illumination, and that was good enough for me. 

Now that it’s summer, I don’t have to worry so much about the time. Not that I did before, but now my dad finds no occasion to give me a lecture about being out so late on school nights. I’ve never understood the big deal about it, really. But dad is dad, and that’s all I can really say. He’d never really been keen on it during the summer either, but now that I’m seventeen he’s slightly more okay with it. Plus, now it’s one less thing for us to argue over. I don’t have a terrible relationship with my dad but I sure as hell don’t have a great one with him. 

I find myself wishing wholeheartedly that I’d brought my guitar along and make a mental note to myself to bring it tomorrow night. What I did bring, however, was a notebook and pen stashed away in the black drawstring backpack that I bring everywhere with me. A peaceful nighttime meadow visit is ideal for writing lyrics to songs that most people will never hear, because most people don’t really care to. In fact, there are only two people in the world besides myself who give a single shit about my music. Everybody else believes me to be far too average to amount of anything and tell me my dreams are impossible- and sometimes the two who do support me voice that opinion as well. But I’m determined to not let everyone else’s disdain mar my self-woven path. 

I wait to bring out my notepad, waiting for the inspiration to come. I take in all the sights around me. The shadowy trees, the plush grass beneath my feet, the little stones scattered haphazardly about here and there. At the edge of my own little meadow, I spot a shadow unlike any of the others around. It takes a slow moment for me to process that the shadows belong not to a bush or a tree, but to another person.

I freeze. This isn’t something I’ve anticipated, not in the slightest. Although the meadow is still new to me, I’ve never once come across another person here. Or anywhere else on the outskirts of town at this time, for that matter. The meadow is tiny, so the newcomer is only a few feet away from me. When I focus, I can hear their breathing. 

I’m not sure what to do. Social graces are not my thing. They’re my sister’s talent and not my own. It turns out, however, that what comes next is not for me to decide. Turns out, fate insists that the guy a few feet away from me is one that I’m destined to meet.

_Levi’s POV_

I slam the front door behind me and make a swift, anger-filled exit from the small, piece of shit house that I was raised in. Another night, another bullshit argument with someone who refuses to listen. Arguments are futile with her. I know that. But I can only take so much bullshit before stupidity gets to me. I’m not a limitless saint; I’m a person with feelings and emotions. My mother, however, will never understand that. She tried as a parent and she failed. She failed from the second she saw me grow up to look like my father, as if I had any form of control over it. 

It doesn’t matter, though. I’ll be out of the godforsaken house as soon as I can afford it. And from there, I’ll be free to do as I please. No exceptions.

I live right in the center of this tragically boring town, as I have since the day I was born in the tiny hospital we have here. 

Because of my preoccupation with pointlessly negative emotion, I fail to appreciate how beautiful the night is. It’s beautiful to me every night, of course, but tonight in particular carries a particular sweetness that I can’t quite put my finger on. 

I love nighttime. Nighttime is freedom, clean and pure. Nighttime means less bothersome people to meddle in affairs that do not belong to them. Nighttime only carries blazing heat with it when it’s unbearable humid, which although often, still doesn’t bother me in the way that daytime heat bothers me. Daytime is irritating. People are bustling about, leading lives they were trained to lead without freewill. God forbid somebody wish to become an artist, because that dream is going to be shit upon from the second a child dares speak out loud their own enthusiastic dreams. Same with any job in the creative field. No, daytime is for the robots, in my mind. 

Nighttime, however, is a time of few people wandering outside the safety of their houses. I’ll never understand why there are not more people out, because it’s not like this town is unsafe. People are barely interested in crime, because remember, people are all too busy with their cookie cutter lives for drugs and assault. 

In the past, my favorite nighttime hideaway has been a little meadow on the outskirts of town, quite a hike from my own house but worth every step. My own personal haven. I haven’t been there recently, though, because I simply haven’t felt like going there. It’d become too routine, which was a concept I tended to loath. But tonight I decided to go there, because I could use the comfort. 

Ha. I need comfort. I should tell my mother that, because she’d love to hear it, considering she fully believes that I’m incapable to showing any form of emotion whatsoever. This includes when I end up yelling right back at her, but apparently “angry” doesn’t constitute as an emotion in my mind. I’ll admit to apathy, I’ll admit to being practically unable to cry, I’ll admit to any of those concepts any day. But to compare me to my dad day-in and day-out is exhausting, and I’ve had enough. 

With a deep sigh I forget about mother and her bullshit and focus on what actually matters; a warm summer’s night that is still young. It’s only about midnight, after all. The air is still warm enough to be comfortable in a t-shirt and shorts, but I only ever wear jeans. Shorts just don’t appeal to me. 

Very little catches me by surprise. I anticipate most things that happen in life, because I have admittedly good intuition. But if somebody would have told me that I’d meet somebody who would change my life forever in my own secret meadow, I would have said they were lying. The kid standing a few feet away from me is not somebody I would ever consider to have an impact on me. But I will soon find that he’s more important to me than anybody I’ve met before.

I see him before he sees me. He’s taller than me by quite a bit, not that it takes much. He’s tall and lanky with little muscle to his name, from what I can tell. A black t-shirt advertises a rock band that I’m very familiar with, simply called “Wings”. Their logo is one black wing paired with a white wing, and they happen to be one of my favorite bands. A common theme in their music is freedom. 

Moving my gaze away from the band shirt, I notice that he’s wearing what I guess to be light grey shorts. He’s also wearing a white beanie on his head, and I notice right away that his hair must be pretty long overall, judging by the length of the bits he’s letting stick out of it. Not many guys can pull this look off, in my mind, but this kid seems to. I can’t tell what color his eyes are in the low light, but I’m intrigued by their innocent roundness bogged down slightly by a slight squint of worry that I’m willing to bet is always on his face, whether he realizes it or not. I wonder what kind of life this kid leads, but I have no interest in finding out. While I enjoy analyzing people for all they’re worth, I sure as hell don’t enjoy trying to get to know them. It’s never worth it, in my mind. 

This kid’s taking his time taking in his surroundings, and I can appreciate that. I’m the same way. 

Although we appear to have a few things in common right off the bat, I decide it best to just leave. I have no interest in making friends and because it’s my preference to be alone, I figure I’ll just go find a place vacant of any soul besides my own.

I return my gaze to him to see that he’s looking me over the way I’d done to him. I turn on my heel in preparation of leaving, but the meadow is not exactly on my side. A large stone that I’ve forgotten the existence of in the last several moments catches my foot and sends me spiraling down to the luckily soft grass. 

_Eren’s POV_

While I stand there in the meadow, debating how to go about approaching the other boy across from me, I have a great view of him. His face is cast into shadow by black bangs sweeping across his face, parting in the middle. I think he has an undercut but it’s hard to tell in the dark. He’s undeniably short, but he’s also a hell of a lot more muscular than I’ll ever be. He has a plan dark t-shirt on that I assume to be black. He also has on a dark pair of jeans that fit his frame well. 

We make eye contact for a short time before he whirls himself around gracefully, surely ready to go. I feel kind of bad, because I realize that I’ve likely intruded on his own personal spot, because I get the sense he’s been to this place far more times than I have. I come close to speaking out, saying that he doesn’t have to leave, that I’m happy to leave instead. I plan to apologize for intruding. Although I can’t even be sure that this truly is this guy’s sacred little spot, I get the feeling it is. It just feels right.

But before I can say anything, he disappears from my eye level. Confused, I look down to find this guy on the ground. I also see a rock that he’s apparently tripped on. 

A moment ago, I was intimidated by this guy. But now it’s impossible for me to be afraid of him, so I hastily approach him in order to offer a hand up. He accepts my help wordlessly, although disdain is apparent in his expression as I help him to his feet. 

At least now I can have a better look at his face. Thin, arched eyebrows give him a serious expression; at least, more serious than it would be anyway. Thin eyes tell of someone who’s stressed more often than not, at least that’s the way I interpret it. He does indeed have an undercut, and he also has gauges in both ears; not too big, not too small. I have gauges too, but mine are slightly bigger than his. He also has an industrial in his right ear and a couple of studs above the gauge in his left ear. Below his lips is a pair of snake bites. They’re silver.

When he’s fully up, I let go of his wrist. We stare at each other for a moment, neither of us apparently sure of what to say. 

He realizes that I’m at a loss of what to say and so he speaks first.

“Thanks.” Is all he says. His voice is deep and a bit rough, really. It’s attractive, though, I have to admit that.

“You’re welc-” I start, but he’s not interested. He’s already walking away. It’s…kind of rude, actually. 

An impossibly short amount of time later and I’m already once more alone in the night. 

Unsure of what to think, I sit down and take my notebook out of my bag.

Although the boy seems to have less interest in me than I have in him, I have to admit a sense of comfort in the whole situation. Somebody else who appears to appreciate the way I think is…pretty awesome, to be quite honest. I like being alone, I’m fine with having few friends, but I’m intrigued by this boy whom I’ve never met but looking back, have seen around time. After all, living in such a small town means I’ve seen everybody, and I know I’ve seen this boy before. But of course, I could never guess that a random kid I’ve seen around town could become somebody so important to me.

But the future holds whatever it wishes to, and it wishes to bring me and this boy together under the dark veil of night. 

There’s solace in the night, after all.


End file.
